


Iron Out My Heart

by Miriadel_theRogue



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, Pemberley arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriadel_theRogue/pseuds/Miriadel_theRogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie wasn't so sure this was a good idea, but Gigi had insisted, perhaps a little too much so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Out My Heart

Lizzie wasn't so sure this was a good idea, but Gigi had insisted, perhaps a little too much so. They had plans for dinner, but when they had climbed into Gigi's car, the girl suddenly remembered she had forgotten her wallet.

"You drove here without a license then?" Lizzie had asked skeptically, sensing this was another ploy of the younger girl's to initiate awkward situations that involved Lizzie and Darcy being alone together.

Gigi smiled innocently. "No, I have that. William and I went to the theatre last night so I switched purses, but of course, didn't take the whole wallet with me. This morning, I just grabbed the purse from last night and forgot I didn't have my wallet." Lizzie was still watching Gigi carefully, who slung her small bag off her shoulder and opened it to show Lizzie that it had her ID, a key ring, and a tube of lip gloss. "See? We'll just swing by the house and run in so I can grab my wallet."

"Is that such a great idea?"

The car was already moving as Gigi responded. "You're our guest here at Pemberley, Lizzie. I don't want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you."

Lizzie had thought the same thing numerous times at the level of hospitality she received from everyone she met here. She wanted to say something, but Gigi switched to talking about the project Pemberley was working on and before Lizzie knew it, the car had pulled through a tall spiral iron gate onto a curved driveway. Gigi stopped in the middle of the drive, Lizzie's door even with the large staircase that led up to the front porch. Powering off the vehicle, Gigi noticed Lizzie was making no effort to get out. "It's too cold for you to sit out here, silly."

"You could leave the car on," suggested Lizzie.

"Just come inside. You'll love the place!" Lizzie still made no movement, and Gigi sighed. "You don't have to go beyond the entrance hall, I promise. Besides, William's probably still at work. Seven o'clock is way too early for him to be calling it a night."

Knowing Darcy almost always worked well into the night, Lizzie found no real objection to following Gigi inside. Not one that the dark haired girl would ever accept anyway. Resigned, Lizzie opened the door, setting her foot down on gravel and shaking her head. Gigi skipped up the steps, unlocking the front door as Lizzie was still admiring the brownstone house. With an exasperated smile, Gigi ran back and pulled Lizzie inside by her wrist.

Staying in the entrance hall seemed like a good choice, because if Lizzie were to go adventuring through the house, she would likely be too enthralled to ever leave. The front door was tucked in a large alcove, an open doorway opposite. Gigi removed her flats and set them down beside a built in bench to the left. Lizzie wondered if she should do the same before Gigi answered her question. "I'll run faster this way. Make yourself at home!" Gigi said as she ran off.

Surprisingly, Lizzie found that more possible than she would have imagined. Yes, the place was immaculate as she had always envisioned a Darcy household being, but it had a warm quality to it. Silently mesmerized, Lizzie walked through the doorway, into the first room. There was another archway, part of which met up with the stairs Gigi had taken. The walls were a delicious cream color fringed with white molding. Dark wood banisters matched dark furniture, a few desks and chairs laden with lamps and vases and statues. Her feet skimmed over luxurious rugs laid on top of solid wood flooring. Normally, she would have scoffed at a house with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling in their entrance way, but here, it seemed the cherry on the sundae, perfectly completing the ensemble. 

A pair of doors stood open enticing her into the next room. In a more modest home, it probably would have been called a living room, but here, it deserved a title with the reverence afforded to nothing short of a sitting room. On the opposite wall was a large fireplace surrounding by a decorative mantle and the wall to her left had a brilliant, arched front window that spread the last dregs of sunshine over the entirety of the room. Lizzie walked forward in a dream state, until she bumped into the back of a couch. Tracing her hand over the edge, she shook her head in wonder.

Noise sounded from the other room and Lizzie returned to the entranceway in case it Gigi was coming back downstairs. It wasn’t and Lizzie stood there for a few more moments before more muffled noises sounded from a door next to the stairs. Cautiously, Lizzie approached, pressing her ear against the door. It sounded like someone was inside. The door opened, Lizzie jumping back in surprise.

“Lizzie!” Darcy said, likely more surprised than she was. Lizzie blushed profusely, watching Darcy from under her lashes as he looked around, trying to get his bearings. “What are you doing here?”

“Gigi and I are going out for dinner.”

“Yes, I was aware.” 

“She, um, forgot her wallet.”

“Ah,” Darcy said. 

Lizzie glanced up and really looked at Darcy for the first time since he nearly bumped into her. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair slightly rumpled and glasses on his face. “You look different,” said Lizzie.

Darcy patted his pockets anxiously. “Yes, well, it’s the proverbial laundry day.”

“Weren’t you wearing a suit earlier?”

“I needed to wash the shirt.”

A buzzer rang from behind Darcy and he turned saying, “Excuse me,” as polite as always, he moved into the room he had come from. Lizzie stepped to follow, stopping in the doorway. 

It was a laundry room. A real one. There was an upright washer and dryer pair, one on top of the other, plus a folding table and an ironing board. Overhead, there was a drying rack with dress shirts hanging down like jungle vines. Darcy pulled a series of what looked like pants out of the dryer, disappearing behind the hanging shirts so all Lizzie could see was his mid chest and down. 

“Are you doing laundry?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, not nearly as stunned by the unusualness as she was.

“I mean, _you’re_ doing laundry?” she repeated incredulously.

He moved and she could see him through a space in the dangling clothes. “Yes,” he said again.

Lizzie pulled her purse up a little on her shoulder. “I guess I just always figured you had people to do that for you.”

“My mother found folding laundry relaxing. I adopted the practice.”

“Laundry isn’t relaxing,” argued Lizzie. “It’s tedious and slow and always feels like a waste of time.”

“Better that than wrinkled clothes.” The pants he had removed were folded on the table now and he crossed back to the dryer to retrieve some more. 

“So you and Gigi really do your own laundry?”

“Yes. There were a number of years where I did Gigi’s laundry for her but then she decided against that.”

“Oh? Why was that?”

Darcy’s chin tucked in, but he dutifully maintained his job of folding. “Apparently it became embarrassing to have your older brother washing your undergarments.”

Lizzie giggled despite herself. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Please don’t tell Gigi I told you. I am certain that falls under a similar category of embarrassment.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” The words came out naturally, and after they were in the air, Lizzie wondered just what they meant given their circumstance. Meanwhile, Darcy pulled down a shirt from the ceiling. With one less item dangling down, there was now a direct line of vision between them. Draping the shirt over the ironing board, Darcy tipped the iron over and it chimed to life. Lizzie watched spellbound as Darcy effortlessly ironed his shirt until it was crisp from collar to hem. 

“How do you do that?” Lizzie breathed.

“Pardon?”

She walked fully into the room and up to the ironing board, trailing a hand over the fabric afraid to mar the perfect surface. “How do you get it to lay so flat?”

“Practice,” he shrugged without moving his shoulders. He watched Lizzie scowl slightly and decided to talk before she could say anything. “Here, I can show you.” Darcy reached around her to grab the next shirt from the ceiling. “Would you mind?” Lizzie took the shirt from him, holding it as he hung the ironed shirt on its hanger and hung it from a rack against the wall. He reached for the shirt Lizzie held with a _thank you_ and began laying it out on the table. “Now, you want to keep the iron moving and if you press this button right here,” he indicated a button on the handle. “Steam pumps out which can help press the garment.”

“Did you just say ‘garment’?” inquired Lizzie.

Darcy ignored her, instead he held out the iron to her. “Give it a try.”

“Me?” He nodded, staring intently at her. Sighing, Lizzie complied, stepping closer to grab the iron. Darcy backed away, but still close enough to observe over her shoulder. Grasping the iron, she tested its weight because that seemed like the thing to do. With half a peek over her shoulder, she tipped the instrument over, plopping it down on top of the back of the shirt. 

“Easy now. You want it to glide over the fabric lightly.” Lizzie altered her movements so they were a little more fluid. “Good, now pull the fabric taut as you iron. That way the fabric spreads out and prevents wrinkles.” She felt him moving around behind her as he moved into her field of vision on her left rather than her right. Approaching the pointed edge of the board, Darcy rotated the shirt slightly so that she was sweeping the iron down a sleeve. “Slow down a little.”

Darcy’s hand reached out to slow the iron, landing gently on top of Lizzie’s. Her muscles cramped, unable to function, and Darcy took over, leading their movement in a slow trek down the sleeve. At the cuff, he swerved the iron back and forth a couple times, careful to avoid the button. With his long arms, he was able to reach the entire distance from his position. “Now, you try.” Darcy removed his hand, clasping both in front of him as he continued to watch her.

Lizzie nearly burned through the shirt before she remembered to pick up the iron. Under Darcy’s tutelage, she smoothed out the rest of the shirt. Finally setting down the iron, she held up her work. “How’s it look?”

Darcy considered it. “It looks better than it did.”

Biting her lip, Lizzie took a few breaths before saying, “You’re going to redo it, aren’t you?” Avoiding her gaze, Darcy ducked his head and pushed his glasses farther up on his face. “Don’t worry,” she rescinded. “I’m not insulted.”

“With practice, you could…” started Darcy.

“I think I’ll leave the ironing to you.” She held the shirt out to him and he took it back from her. Stepping out of his way, Lizzie gestured towards the shirt. Darcy laid it back down, and Lizzie watched, gently amused as he began to even it out to his standards. 

Thunder rolled down the stairs and Lizzie could see Gigi coming back into the entrance hall. “Lizzie?” Gigi called, looking around. Lizzie moved around Darcy, grazing his left arm in her hurry to pass. “There you are,” Gigi said when she saw Lizzie coming out of the laundry room. “Oh, William. I thought you were still at the office.”

“I came home early to do some chores,” he said, joining Lizzie in the entrance hall just past the doorway. 

“Any chance you’re going to the store?” Gigi perked up.

“Perhaps,” he said noncommittally. Lizzie almost thought he was teasing his sister.

“If you do,” Gigi tilted her head and batted her eyes at him in hopefulness. “Would you be willing to pick up some cookie dough ice cream?”

“We can’t possibly be out of it again,” frowned Darcy. “I believe I picked up a new carton on Tuesday.”

“And it was delicious!” smiled Gigi. 

Darcy shook his head. “Didn’t you have dinner plans?”

“Right!” Gigi said. “Sorry it took me so long to find my wallet. It slipped behind my bed where I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s fine,” said Lizzie. “I was happy to explore.” She blushed a little, realizing she might have been overstepping her boundaries to travel around their house by herself. 

“You are always welcome,” Darcy said. Lizzie smiled briefly, then looked at her shoes. 

“Do you have dinner plans, William?” asked Gigi eagerly.

Darcy frowned at her deeper. “I shall be fine. Enjoy your dinner.”

“We wouldn’t mind….”

“Georgiana.” 

Gigi sighed. “Alright, we’re going. Have a good night.” She headed for the entrance way to collect her shoes.

Lizzie smiled gratefully at Darcy and made to follow Gigi. She turned back and said, “Enjoy your laundry.”

With a slow blink, Darcy said, “Good night, Lizzie.”

In the entranceway, Gigi stood with an expectant smile. Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Did you even really forget your wallet?”

“Of course I did. I showed you my purse.”

“On accident?” Gigi was less quick to answer. “And just how long did you wait at the top of the stairs?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” shrugged Gigi. “Come on, I know this great Italian restaurant.” Gigi held open the door for Lizzie to walk through, looking back and winking at Darcy who was still watching from the other side of the stairs. As the door closed behind the girls, Darcy shook his head and returned to his laundry. 

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, Gigi thunders up the stairs to make as much noise as possible in the hopes of getting William to come out in order to investigate, which is when he finds Lizzie in the hall. She thunders down the stairs in a last ditch attempt to draw him out. Not all her meddling works out the way she plans, but it usually works. 
> 
> A wonderful and heartfelt thank you to my beta, Stef. She's a goddess.


End file.
